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OlAjx/.iyiZ-tJt<it / 4 T e^ 



CENTESSIAL OF THE CAPTIKE 



MAJOR ANDRE. 



ORATION AT TARRYTOWN, 



THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23d, 1880. 



Hon. chaxjngey m. depew. 



NEW YORK : 
John Polhe.wus, Printer, 102 Nassau Street. 

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MAJOR ANDRE. 



ratiffit at Carritatoii, 



S^EJFTlSMB^EIl 23d, 1880. 



BY 



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Hon. 


CHAUNCEY M,CpEPEW 




NEW YORK : 

John Polhemus, Printer, 102 Nassau Street. 




1880. 



CENTENNIAL OE THE CAl'TUIIE 



MAJOR ANDRE. 



One hundred years ago tlie sun rose upon tlie same 
beautiful landscape which surrounds us here to-day. The 
noble Hudson rolled in front ; to the north were the 
Highlands, in their majesty and strength ; on the west 
towei'ed the mountains enclosing the Bay, and on the 
east spread valleys and hills celebrated then, as now, for 
their picturesqueness and commanding views. Beyond 
the loveliness of the situation it had no greater claims 
upon the attention of the world than hundreds of places 
adorned by nature which have made our State celebrated 
for the beauty and variety of its scenery. But when the 
sun went down this spot had become one of the fields 
priceless in the memory of mankind, where virtue is 
vindicated, and civilization and liberty saved from great 
disaster. The story we repeat here has as much value as a 
lesson to the living as a reverent tribute to the memory 
of the dead. 



History, traditions, legends forgotten, almost lost, in 
the rapid mareli of events, and the wonderful development 
of material prosperity, are so revived by these commemora- 
tions that our county, richer than any other in the com- 
monwealth in revolutionary recollections, becomes in every 
part a pei'petual teacher of the labors and sacrifices of 
pati'iotism to secure our independence. 

The happiness and progress of mankind have as often 
been advanced or retarded ])y small events as by great 
battles. If the three hundred men with Leonidas stemmed 
the Persian torrent, and made Thermopyhie the inspiration 
of tAventy centuries, right here a centuiy ago to-day three 
plain farmers of Westchester preserved the liberties of the 
American people. 

It is hard, even in imagination, to understand now the 
condition of this region at that period. It was ominously 
known as the neuti'al gi-ound, and marauded and harried 
by Royal and Continental soldiers, and by Skinners and 
Cow-boys, robbers and brigands of etjual infamy. The 
Whig farmer saw his cattle driven off and the flames of 
his buildings lighting the sky to-night, and mercilessly 
I'etaliated U])on his Toiy neighbor to-morrow. Fences 
■were down, fi-uit rotted ungathered on the ground, rank 
vegetation covered the unsown fields, and the gaunt and 
vengeful citizen guai'ded with ready ^nusket his family 
and hidden stores, or watched in ambuscade by the way- 
side to I'ecapture his stolen property or prevent the 



delivery of foraged stores to the enemy. Amidst such 
experiences and surroundings the captors of Andre passed 
their daily lives. 

September, 1780, was a gloomy and anxious time for 
Washington and Congress. Charleston had fallen, and 
! Gates had been disastrously defeated. With the rout of 
his army the whole South had come under the enemy's 
control. New Jersey was overrun, and twenty thousand 
men, veterans of European battle-fields, were gathered in 
New York. The French fleet had sailed away, and a large 
reinforcement arrived to the British navy, and Washing- 
ton's cherished plan of a demonstration against the city 
had to be abandoned. The only American force worthy 
the name of an army, numbering less than twelve 
thousand, suffering from long arrears of pay, without 
money to send their starving families, and short of every 
kind of supplies, was encamped at and about West Point. 
This critical moment was selected by Arnold, with devilish 
sagacity, to strike his deadly blow. Elated by the suc- 
cesses which had crowned his earlier efforts, he plunged 
into excesses, which left him without a command, bank- 
]U[)t in fortune, and smarting under the reprimand of 
Congress. He still retained the confidence of Washington, 
and anxious to secure the largest price for his treason 
applied for and obtained the command of West Point. 

The surrender of this post, controlling the passes of 
the Hudson, with its war materials vital to the maintain- 



6 

ance of the [tatriot airnv, and its garrison of four thousand 
troops, together with the ^)erson of Washington, ended, in 
his judgment, the war, and gave him a place second to 
Monk in English history. 

The success or failure of the united colonies in forming 
an independent government depended, from the beginning 
to the end of the contest, on the State of New York. 

Through her boundai'ies ran the natural channels by 
which the Six Nations marched to Savage Empire ; the 
English broke the French power on this continent, and 
emigration and commerce have peopled and enriched great 
states. A British statesman and soldier said : ''Fortify from 
Canada to the City of New York, and we can hold the 
colonies together." The British Cal)inet and Generals said : 
"Capture and place a chain of posts along the route from 
New York City to Canada, and we can crush rebellious 
New England and awe all the rest into submission." The 
battle of Saratoga and surrender of Burgoyne defeated the 
last and most formidable attempt to accomplish this result 
by arms. Upon its bloody tield American Independence 
was consummated. That gi-and victory which gave us 
unity at home and rec-ognition abroad was largely due to 
the skill, the dash, the intrepid valor of Arnold. 

The issue decided in that conflict the control of the 
passes of the Hudson, and all which would follow vvas now 
to be reo])ened and reversed by treason, and the traitor the 
same Arnold. For eighteen months a correspondence 



opened by Arnold had been carried ou between him and 
Major Andre, acting for Sir Henry Clinton. 

He wrote over the signature of Gnstavus, seeking a V)id 
for his defection, and occasionally imparting valual)le infor- 
mation to indicate his importance. Andre replied under 
the name of John Anderson, testing and tempting. 

These letters, moulded in the vocabulary of trade, and 
treating of the barter and sale of cattle and goods, were 
i-eally haggling about the price of the betrayal of the lib- 
erties of America and a human soul. The time had come 
for action, and the British must be satisfied as to the iden- 
tity of their man and the fii'mness of his purpose, and com- 
mit him beyond tlie possibility of retreat. For said Sir 
Henry Clinton, " We propose to risk no lives upon the 
possibilities of deceit or failure.'^ The first meeting ap- 
pointed at Dobbs Ferry, on the 12th of September, failed, 
and Arnold came near being captured. With rare audacity 
lie reported his visit at once to Washington, and the next 
day wrote a letter to General Greene expressing bitter 
indignation against Gates for his Southern defeat, and the 
apprehension that it would leave an indelible stain upon 
his reputation. 

Armed with a decoy letter from Beverly Robinson, 
ostensibly about his confiscated lands, really conveying 
information where an interview with Andre might be had, 
lie met Washington, on his way to see Rochambeau at 
Hartford, carried him across the river at Verplancks Point 



ill his barge, and asked permission to go, but tlie chief 
declined, saying the mattei' had l)etter be left to the civil 
authorities. An overruling Providence was piotecting the 
patriot cause and weaving about the ph)t the elements of 
its exposure and destruction. Baffled, but not disheartened, 
Arnold, lurking in the Inishes of the Long Glove l^elow 
Haverstraw, sent a ])oat at midnight to the Vulture to 
bring Andre to the shore. The Ix^atmen, roughly handled 
on the sloop of war for daring to approach her without a 
flag of truce, are hurried before Andre and explain their 
mission. He disguised his uniform in a cloak and deter- 
mined to accompany them. The caution of Sir Henry 
Clinton — not to go within the American lines, not to cover 
his uniform, not to l)e tlie bearer of any papers — rings in 
his ears. The wai'ning hand of Beverly Robinson rests 
upon his shoulder. The danger, the disgiace, the prize, 
are l)efore him. If detected, a s[)y ; if successful, at the 
head of a victorious column ii[)()n Fort Putnam receiving 
the surrender of West Point : a GeneraFs Commission ; 
the tlianks of Parliament ; tlie knightly lionors of his King. 
Brilliant, accomplished, ca[)tivating, cliivalric and ambitious, 
his secret coi'respondence had revealed the defect in his 
charactei' ; his moral sense was paralyzed in tlie presence 
of great opportunities. 

The dawn tinds Arnold and Andiv still in the thicket, 
still disputing about the terms. Horses are hastily 
mounted and they start for Smith's House, still standing 
yonder above the bay. 



The sentiners cliallenge, the countersisj,-n, warn Andiv 
that he is in the last position of a sohlier : disguised and on 
a secret mission within tlie enemy's camp. All the morn- 
ing that fearful bargaining goes on, and at last it is settled. 
He receives the papers giving the plans, fortifications, 
armament and ti'oops at AVest Point, the proceedings of 
Washington's last council of war, and hides them between 
his stockings and his feet. He receives the assurance that 
the defences shall be so manned as to fal] without a blow, 
and assures Arnold in return of a Brigadier-Generalship 
in the British army, and seven thousand pounds in ]]ioney, 
and bids him farewell, till he meets him at the close of a 
sliam coml)at to receive Jiis surrender and sword. 

Those two men thus bidding adieu on yonder hillside 
liave determined the destinies of unborn millions, and 
none share their secret, and there is no one to betray them. 
Once safely back with those papers, and America's doom 
is sealed. We bow with devout and humble thanks- 
giving to the watchful and beneficent Providence which 
turned most trivial circumstances into the powerful 
elements which thwarted this welMaid scheme. Colonel 
Livingston, commanding at Ver[)laucks, I'efused by Arnold 
a heavy gun to fire upon the Vulture, had made it 
so hot for her with a little four-])ounder on Teller's 
Point, that she had dio[)[)ed down the rivei'. The timid 
Smith, of whom [)osterity is in doubt whether he was 
a knave or a tool, was too scared to venture to reach 



10 

her by bo;it, and so tlic land journey was determined upon. 
Still furtlier disguised, and armed Avitli AimioUFs pass 
in the name of John An(h^rson, Andrr crossed the river 
on the afternoon of the 2 2d of Septeml^er to Ver])lancks 
Point, and safely ])assed thi-ough Livingston's camp. 

Gaily he i-ides, accom])anied by Smith, through the 
Cortlandt woods, and over the Yoi'ktown hills. He laughs 
as he passes the ancient guide-post, bearing its legend, 
" DIshe Jils <li Roode toe de KsJiings Farray^'' and his hair 
stood on ^.wX^ he said, Avhen he met Colonel Webb, of our 
army, whom he [)erfectly knew, but who stared and went 
on. His plan is to strike the White Plains road and so 
reach his o\vn lines. But at Ci-umpond, Captain Boyd 
stops them. A most uncomfortable, inquisitive, vigilant, 
and ti'oublesome Yankee, is this same Ca[)tain Boyd. 
Arnold's ))ass stuns him, but it retpiires all the versatility 
and adroitness of Andre to allay his suspicions. He so 
signiiicantly recommends their remaining all night that 
they dare not decline. A Westchester farmer's bed never 
had two more uneasy occupants. 

At early dawn they departed, with Captain Boyd 
in the rear, and the Cowd)oys, against whom 
Boyd had \varned them, in front — Andre's spirits 
rose. He had left disgrace and a shameful death 
behind, and saw only escape, glory and renown before. 
Hitherto taciturn and de[)ressed, he now overwhelmed 
his dazed companions with a Hood of brilliant talk. 



11 

Poetry, music, ])elle8 lettres, the drama, the times, 
formed tlie theme of his flowing eloquence, and ever and 
anon as they rose the many eminences wliich command a 
view of the Highlands, and the river, he broke out in 
rapturous praise of the entrancing scenery. Mrs. Under- 
hill, near Pine's Bridge, had lost her all, but one cow and 
a bag of meal, by a raid of the Cow-bo3^s the night before, 
but with true county hospitality she spread before them 
the time-honored Westchester dish of suppawn and milk. 
At Pine's Bridge, Smith's courage failed and he l)ade his 
companion good-bye. This was another of the ti'ivial 
incidents which led Andre to his fate. Smith, \\itli his 
acquaintance and ready wit, would have piloted him safely 
by the White Plains road, or upon the othei' route, and 
satisfied the scruples of the yeomen who captured him. 
Smith rode to West Point and by his report allayed Ar- 
nold's anxiety, and then in the easy and shiftless char- 
acter of everybody's friend he continued on to Fishkill and 
supped with Washington and his staff. Andre alone, free 
from care, decided to strike for the river — it was a shorter 
road — and from the Cow-boys who infested it he had 
nothing to fear ; but it was another link in the cliain 
winding about him. The broad domains of his friends, the 
great loyalist families, lay about him, his own lines a few 
short hours beyond. 

Saturday morning, the 23d of September, one hundred 
years ago, was one of those clear, bright, exhilarating days. 



12 

wlien this region is in the fullness of its ([uiet Ijeauty. 
Tlie handsome liorseman delights the children of Staats 
Hammond's family as they hand him a cup of water, and 
leaves a lasting impression upon the Quakers of Chappaqua, 
of whom he inquires the distance to Tarrytown. Through 
Sparta, he sti'ikes the j-iver road, and gallops along that 
most picturesque highway, the scenery in harmony with 
the brilliant future spread before his imagination. He 
recognizes the old Sleepy Hollow Church, with its ancient 
bell bearing the motto. Si Dens pro iiohia, quis contra ii.os, 
and a half mile in front sees the bridge over the little brook 
which was to be for him a fatal Rubicon On the south side 
of that stream, in the Ijushes })laying cards, were three 
young farmei-8 of the neighborhood — John Paulding, David 
AVillianis and Isaac V^an AVart — watching to intercept the 
Cow-boys and their stolen cattle. At the approach of the 
hoi-semaii, Paulding stej)s into the road, presents his musket 
and calls a halt. It was nine in the morning; they have 
been there but an hour. An earlier start, a swifter pace, and 
Andi'c would have esca[)ed ; but this was still another of 
the tiivial incidents in the fatal combination about him 
Andre speaks tii'st. "My lads, I hope you belong to our 
party." " Which i)arty," they said. " The lower party," he 
answered. "We do." " 'I'heu thaid< God," said he, " I am once 
moi-e among friends. 1 am a l>iitish officer, out on partic- 
ular business, and must not be detained a minute." Then 
they said, "We are Americans, and you are our prisoner 



18 

and must dismount." " My God," he said, laughing, '' a man 
must do anything to get along,'' and presented Arnold's 
pass. Had he presented it first, Paulding said, afterwards, 
he would have let him go. They carefully scanned it, but 
persisted in detaining him. He threatened them with 
Arnold's vengeance for this disrespect to his order; but, in 
language more forcible than polite, they told him "they 
cared not for that," and led him to the great whitewood 
tree, under which he was searched. As the fatal papers 
fell from his feet, Paulding said, " My God, here it is," and, 
as he read them, shouted in high excitement to his compan- 
ions, " By God, he is a spy." 

Now came the crucial and critical moment. Andre, 
fully alive to his danger, and with every faculty alert, felt 
no alarm. He had the day before bargained with and 
successfully bought an American Major-General of the 
highest military i-eputation. 

If a few thousand pounds and a commission in the 
British army could seduce the commander of a district, 
surely escape was easy from these three young men, but 
one of whom could read, and w^ho were buttressed by 
neither fame nor fortune. "If you will release me," said 
Andre, " I will give you a hundred guineas and any 
amount of dry goods." "I will give you a thousand 
guineas," he ciied, "and you can hold me hostage till one 
of your number returns with the money." 

Then Paulding swore, " We would not let you go for 



14 

ten tliousaiid guineas/' That decision saved the liberties 
of America. It voiced tlie spirit which sustained and 
carried throuLili tlie revolutionary struggle for nationality, 
and crushed the rebellion waged eighty years afterwards 
to destroy that nationality — the invincible courage and 
impregnable virtue of the conunon people. 

As Washington was riding that night from Hartford, 
depressed by the refusal of Count Rochambeau, tlie French 
General, to co-()[)erate in his plans, and to be overwhelmed 
on the morrow by Arnold's jistounding treason, all along 
the route enthusiastic throngs with torches and acclama- 
tions hailed his ap}»roach. "AVe may be beaten by the 
Eno-lish/' he said to Rochambeau's Aid, "it is the fortune 
of war ; but l)ehold an army which they can never conquer." 
With one of his captors in front, the others on either 
side of his horse, Andre is cari'ied to (Jolonel Jameson's, 
the nearest American post. The gay horseman has come to 
grief, and the buoyant gallop to the front has turned into 
a funeral march to the rear, and he recalls the ill omen of 
the song sung })v Wolfe the night before the storming of 
Quebec, and \\ Inch \w had repeated at the farewell dinner 
given him the evening of his departure on this fatal errand. 

Why, soldiers, why. 

Should we be melancholy boys, 

Why, soldiers, why, 

Whose business 'tis to die. 

Jameson, a bi'ave and honest soldier, was easily duped 



15 

by the courtly arts of Andre. While he sent the papers by 
special messenger to Washington, he was persuaded by 
Andre to forward him with a letter descriptive of his 
capture to Arnold. Once there and both had escaped. 
The vigilant and suspicious Major Tallmadge induced 
Jameson to bring back Andre ; but to recall the letter to 
Arnold, he positively refused. Jameson's messenger to 
Washington, mistaking his road, did not reach West Point 
till the next noon ; his messenger to Arnold arrived in the 
mornino'. 

Washington, on approaching the river, according to his 
habit, proceeded at once to examine the fortifications. La 
Fayette reminded him that Mrs. Arnold's breakfast was 
^vaiting. " You young gentleman are all in love with Mrs. 
Arnold," he said. " You go and tell her not to wait for 
me, I will be there in a short time." Hamilton and Mc- 
Henry delivered the message, and were welcomed by Ar- 
nold and his wife. 

In the midst of the meal Allan, the messenger, delivered 
Jameson's letter. Arnold's iron nerve held him unconcei-n- 
edly at the table a few moments ; then, saying he must go 
over to the Point to prepare for the reception of the Gen- 
eral, he arose. 

His wife followed him up stairs. Hastily informing 
her of his ruin and bidding her perhaps a last farewell, as 
she fell fainting to the floor, he kissed his sleeping baby, 
stepped a moment into the bi-eakfast room to inform his 



16 

guests of tlie su(l(l(-n illiiessof l»is wife, aii<], followed by liis 
boat's crew, daslied down the liillside to the river. 

The}^ must row with all their might, he told them, as 
he had a message to deliver on board the Vulture, eigli- 
teeu miles below, for Washington, and should be back 
before evening. He reprimed his pistols, and, ^vith one in 
each hand, sat resolved to die the death of a suicide rather 
than be captured. By j)romises of re^vard, l)y voice and 
gestui-e, he urges his crew to their best exertions. His 
guilty soul peopling every tui'n of the river with avenging 
pui'suit, he sails thi'ough the Highlands, waving his hand- 
kerchief as a Hag to his forts, redoubts and patrols, aston- 
ishing the vigilant Livingston at Verplancks with the spec- 
tacle of his commander makinir sti-aio^ht foj- the British 
sloop of war, and takes tlie first free breath of relief as he 
steps on the deck of the Vulture. 

To his coxswain he offers a commission, to the crew 
rewards, if they will desert and join the British. They 
nnauimously refuse, and Larvey the coxswain replies : " If 
General Arnold likes the King of England, let liini serve 
him; we love our country, and intend to live or die in sup- 
]X)rt of her cause." At Arnold's command they are made 
prisoners, and he stood thei'e among tlieni then, as he stands 
pilloried in history for all time, the only American soldier 
who, during the revolutionary war, turned traitor to liis 
country. As Washington returns from the inspection at 
West Point, to Arnold's headqmirters, at the liobinson 



17 

House, lie finds Haiiiiltoi), holding Jameson's letters and 
the papers found on Andre. Then he understands Arnold's 
sudden flight, the failure to gj'eet him from the batteries 
with the accustomed salute, the general negligence and 
^vant of preparation for attack everywhere found He 
stands on a mine. How far does this conspiracy extend 'i 
Who else are implicated ? The enemy may come this very 
night, and who shall be placed in posts of danger ? De- 
spairingly he says : " Whom can we trust no^v 'i " 

But Washington's greatness shone conspicuously in great 
emergencies. Hamilton is dispatched to intercept Arnold, 
if possible, Tallmadge is ordered to bring Andre with 
triple guards to West Point, Greene at Tappan is directed 
to put the whole army in marching order, and before night 
every fort and defence from Putnam to Verplancks is ready 
for any assault. Then, with no outward sign of excitement, 
Washington sat down to dinner, and with courtly kindness 
sent word to Arnold's hysterical and screaming wife : " It 
was my duty to arrest General Arnold, and I have used 
eveiy exertion to do so, but I take pleasure in informing you 
that he is now safe on board the Vulture." Andre was 
brought to AVest Point that night, and taken to the head- 
quarters of the army at Tappan the next day. According 
to the laws and usages of war in relation to spies, Wash- 
ington could have ordered him summarily to execution. 
But threats of retaliation, impudent letters from Arnold, 
extraordinary appeals and interpretations of Andre's con- 
duct and position from Sir Henry Clinton, began to pour 
in upon the Commander-in-Chief. He ordered a board of 
officers to be convened, and submitted the case to their 



18 

consideration. It was as august a tril)unal as ever sat 
under like circumstances : six major-generals and eight 
brigadiers — as eminent as any in the service, including the 
foreign officers La Fayette and Steuben — formed the Court. 
They gave Andre every opportunity to present his o^vn de- 
fence, and when the facts were all in, unanimously adjudged 
him guilty, and that he must suffer the death of a spy. 
His youth, graces and accomplishments, his dignity and 
cheerfulness, won the affections of his guard and the ten- 
derest sympathy of the whole array. There was not a 
soldier present ^vho would not have risked his life, if by 
so doing Ai-nold might be captured and substituted in 
Andre's place. In all the glittering splendor of the full 
uniform and ornaments of his rank, in the presence of the 
whole American army, without the quiver of a muscle or 
sign of fear, the officers about him weeping, the bands 
playing the dead march, he walked to execution. His last 
words were of loving solicitude for the welfare of mother 
and sisters in distant Britain, and the manner of fame he 
would leave behind. " How hard is my fate, but it will 
be but a momentary pang," he said, as he pushed aside the 
executioner and himself adjusted the rope. To those 
around he cried : " T })ray you to bear witness that I meet 
my fate like a brave man," and swung into eternity. 

The supernatural served to add to the interest and per. 
petuate the memory of this tragedy. On the day of his 
execution the great tree under which he was searched was 
shattered by a bolt of lightning; and at the same hour, at 
his home in England, his sister awoke from a troubled sleep 
screaming, " My brother is dead ; he has been hung as a spy." 



19 

In the British Army, and in England, the wiklest in- 
dignation bni'st out against Washington. Andre was 
mourned and honored as if he had fallen in a moment of 
glorious victory at the head of his column. His brother 
^VRS knighted, his family pensioned, and his King declared 
in solemn message that "the public can never be com- 
pensated for the vast advantages which must have followed 
from the success of his plan." In Westminster Abbey, 
that grand mausoleum of England's mighty dead, where 
repose her greatest statesmen, warriors and authors, the 
King placed a monument bearing this inscription : " Sacred 
to the memory of Major John Andre, who, raised by his 
mei'it, at an early period of his life, to the rank of 
Adjutant-General of the British forces in America, and 
employed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell 
a sacrifice to his zeal for his King and country." 

Forty years afterwards a Royal embassy came to this 
country, disinterred his remains at Tappan, and a British 
frigate sent for the purpose bore them to England, where 
they were buried beside his monument with imposing 
ceremonies. One of the most enlightened and liberal of 
England's churchmen, in a recent visit to this land, wrote 
the insci-iption for, and urged the erection of, the monu- 
ment to Andre's memory at Tappan, as the one act wdiich 
would do more than anything else to remove the last ves- 
tiges of enmity between the United States and Great 
Britain . 



20 

Aiidiv'.s story is the oiic ox erniasterinj;' roiiuuR'e of 
the i-evoliition. Aiuuriraii and English literatni'e are 
full of elo(iuence and poetry in triVjute to his memory and 
sympathy for his fate. After the lai)se of a hundred years 
tliere'is no abatement of al)sorl)ing interest. What had 
this young man done to merit immortality t The 
mission, wliose tragic issue lifted him out of the 
oblivion of other minor British otiicers, in its inception 
was free from peril or daring, and its objects and 
purposes were utterly infamous. Had he succeeded b}^ 
the desecration of the honorable uses of passes and 
flags of truce, his name would have beiMi held in ever- 
lasting execration. In his failure, the infant Republic 
escaped the dagger with which he was feeling for its heai't, 
and the crime was drowned in tears for his untimely end. 
Ilis youth and beauty, his skill with pen and pencil, his 
effervescing spirits and uiagnetic disposition, the lu'ightness 
of his life, the calm courage in the gloom of his death, his 
early love and disappointment, and the image of his lost 
Honora hid in his mouth when captured in Canada, \\ith 
the exclamation, "That saved, T care not for the loss of all 
the rest,'' and nestling in his bosom when he was slain, sur- 
j'ounded him with a halo of poetry and pity which have 
secured for him what he most souj^ht and could never have 
Avon in battles and sieges — a fame and recognition A\liich 
liave outlived that of all the generals under whom he served. 

Are Kings only grateful, and do Republics forget ? Is 



21 

fame a travesty, and the Judgment of mankind a farce? 
America had a parallel case in Captain Nathan Hale, Of 
the same age as Andre, he graduated at Yale College with 
high honors, enlisted in the patriot cause at the beginning 
of the contest, and secured the love and confidence of all 
about him. When none else would go upon a most im- 
portant and pei'ilous mission, he volunteered, and was cap- 
tured by the British. While Andre received every kind- 
ness, courtesy and attention, and was fed from Washing- 
ton's table. Hale was thrust into a noisome dungeon in the 
sugar- house. While Andre was tried by a board of offi- 
cers, and had ample time and every facility for defence, 
Hale was summarily ordered to execution the next morning. 
While Andre's last wishes and bequests were sacredly fol- 
lowed, the infamous Cunningham tore from Hale his cher- 
ished Bible, and destroyed before his eyes his last letters 
to his mother and sister, and asked him what he had to 
say. " All I have to say," was Hale's reply, " I regret I 
have but one life to lose for my country." His death was 
concealed for months, because Cunningham said he did not 
want the rebels to know they had a man who could die so 
bravely. And yet, ^vhile Andre rests in that grandest of 
mausoleums, where the proudest of nations garners the 
remains and perpetuates the memories of its most eminent 
and honored children, the name and deeds of Nathan Hale 
have passed into oblivion, and only a simple tomb in a vil- 
lage church-yard marks his resting-[)lace. The dying decla- 



22 

rations of Aiidiv and Hale express tlie animating spirit of 
their several Mrniies, and teach why, with all her power, 
England could not conquer America. "I call upon you to 
witness that I die like a])rave man," said Andre, and he spoke 
from British and Hessian surroundings, seeking only glory 
and pay. " I regret I have but one life to lose for my country," 
said Hale; and with him and his comrades self was forgot- 
ten in that a1>s<)rl)ing, passionate patriotism which pledges 
foi'tune, honoi- and life to tlie sacred cause. 

But Re[)ublics are not ungrateful. The captors of Andre 
wei'e honored and rewarded in theii' lives, and grateful 
genei'ations celebrate their deeds and I'evei'e their memoi'ies. 
Washington wrote to Congress: "The pai'ty that took 
Major Andre'' acted in such a manner as does them the high- 
est honor, and |)roves them to be men of great virtue ; their 
conduct gives them a just claim to the thanks of tlieir coun- 
ti-y." Congress acted ])i'(>mptly. It thanked them by resolu- 
tion, granted to each an aniuiity of two hundred dollai's for 
life, and twelve hundred and fifty doHai's in cash, or the same 
amount in conhscated lands in Westchester County, and 
diiected a siivei' medal bearing the motto " Fidelity " on the 
one side and " Vincit Amor Patiiu' " on the other, to be pre- 
sented to them. The Legislature of the State of New York 
ga\e to each of them a farm in consideration — reads the 
act — of " tlieir virtue in refusing a large sum offered to tliem 
l)y Major Andiv as a bribe to permit him to escape." 
SI»oi'tly after, Washington gave a grand dinnei' ]>arty at 



23 

Verplancks Point. At the table were his staff and the 
famous generals of the army, and as honored guests these 
three young men — Paulding, Williams and Van Wart — 
whose names were now household words all over the land ; 
and there with solemn and impressive speech Washington 
presented the medals. Paulding died in 1818, and in 1827 
the Corporation of the City of New York placed a monu- 
ment over his grave in the old cemetery just north of 
Peekskill, reciting, " The Corporation of the City of New 
York erected this Tomb as a Memorial Sacred to Public 
Gratitude,'' the Mayor delivering the address and a vast 
concourse participating in the ceremonies. Van Wart died 
in 1828, and in the Greenburgh church-yard the citizens 
of this county erected a memorial in "Testimony of his 
virtuous and patriotic conduct." Williams died in Liv- 
ingston ville, in Schoharie County, in 1831, and was 
buried with military honors. In 1876 the State 
erected a monument, and his remains were re-interred 
in the old stone fort at Schoharie Court House. On 
the spot where Andre was captured the young men 
of Westchester County, in 1853, built a cenotaph 
in honor of his captors. Arnold, burned in effigy in 
every village and hamlet in America, received his 
money and a commission in the British army, but was 
daily insulted by the proud and honorable offcers upon 
whom his association was forced, and who despised alike 
the treason and the traitor. His infamy has served to gild 



24 

and gloss the acts of Andiv, and deepening with succeed- 
ing years l)iings out with each generation a clearer and 
purer appreciation of tlie virtue and patriotism of Paulding, 
Williams and Van Wart. 

Pity for Andre led to grave injustice to AA'ashington and 
detraction of his captors, which a century lias not etfaced. 
Sir Henry Clinton and his officers, in addresses and memoirs, 
denounced the execution of Andre as without justification. 
A contemporary British poetess characterized Washington 
as a '' remorseless murderer," and one of the latest and 
ablest of England's historians says this act is the one indel- 
ible " blot upon his character," and that the decision of 
tlic military tri])unal composed of men ignorant of ^^attel 
and Piitfen(U)rtf, and fresh from " ])]()Ugh liandles and sliop 
boards," does not I'elieve him. It lias liccome a conviction 
abroad, and to some extent a sentiment liere, that a grave 
and Fatal error was committed. It is claimed that Andre 
was under tlu^ protection of a flag of truce, that he was 
within the Ameri(tan lines upon tlie invitation of the coin- 
mandei' of the district, and untk'i' tlie protection of that 
General's pass, that his intent was free fi"(»m tur[)itude, and 
the circumstances surrounding his position entitled him to 
exchange or discharge. When Andiv was on trial upon the 
chai'ge of being a spy, he testified in his own behalf that 
" he liad no reason to su])pose he came on slioi-e under a 
tlag of truce," and such is the concurrent testimony of all 
the wit.uesses. The story w as tl;ie subsequent invention of 



25 

Arnold. But even if true, the Hag is recognized in the usages 
of war for definite and honorable purposes — it ameliorates 
the horrors of the conilict ; but, when used as a cover for trea- 
sonable purposes, loses its character and protective power. 
To present it as a defence and shield for the corrupt cor- 
I'espondence of the enemy's emissary and a traitorous officer, 
is a monstrous perversion. It is true, he was present at 
Arnold's invitation and carried his pass, but he knew the 
object of his visit, and did not hold the pass in his own 
name and title. Months before he had written to Colonel 
Sheldon, commanding the Continental outposts, that under 
tiag and pass he proposed visiting, on important business, 
(leneral Arnold, at West Point, and requesting safe con- 
duct, and signing and representing himself as John Ander- 
son, a ti'adei'. The meeting which finally took place was 
an appointment often l)efore thwarted, and its object 
to tamper with the integrity and seduce from his alle- 
giance the enemy's officer. The signals and agencies 
of communication and travel between hostile forces were 
collusively used to procure the l)etrayal of an arm}^ and 
the ruin of a nation. Andre landed at Haverstraw to traf- 
fic with the necessities and tempt the irritated pride of a 
bankrupt and offended general, and having succeeded in 
seducing him to surrender the forts and trusts under his 
command, Benedict Arnold, so far as his confederate Andre 
was concerned, ceased from that moment to be the Ameri- 
can commanderj and any papers issued by him to further 



26 

and conceal the scheme were absolutely void. His pass 
and safe conduct were nc^t only vitiated in their inception 
l)y the joint act of giver and I'eceiver, secreting treason in 
them, but they were issued to an assumed name and borne 
in a false character, A Bi'itish soldier found disguised in 
the American lines, with the plans of the patriots' forts, 
the details of their armaments and the outlines of the plot 
for their betrayal hidden in his boots, lost, with the discov- 
ery of his personality and pui'poses, the protection of a 
fraudulent cei'tificate. Greene and Knox, and La Fayette 
and Steuben, and the other members of the board of offi- 
cei's who tried and convicted Andre, may possibly have 
l)een ignoi'ant of the great authorities upon international 
law ; but had they studied, they would have found in them 
both precedent and justification. While the laws of war 
justify tampering with the opposing commander and com- 
passing his desertion, the sudden, unsuspected, unguar- 
dable and overwheltaing charactei' of the blow render it 
the highest of crimes, and subjects those detected and 
arrested in the act to summary execution. A general is 
commissioned by his governmeut to fight its battles and 
protect its interests. The law of principal and agent is as 
applicable as to a civil transaction, and all who deal with 
him, to })etray his trust, know that he is acting beyond the 
limits of his authority. Not the least remarkable of the 
incidents of this strange history, was the pro})osition of 
Sir Henry Clinton to submit the question to the arbitration 



27 

of tlie French General Roehanibeau and tlie Hessian 
General Knypliausen. Such an offer would never have 
been made to a European commander. It was an expres- 
sion in a foi'ni most offensive to Washington, of that super- 
cilious contempt for the abilities, acquirements and opinions 
of American soldiers and statesmen, on the part of the 
ruling classes in England, which precipitated the Revolu- 
tion and created this Republic. The sympathy and grief 
of Washington for Andre and his misfortunes were among 
the deepest and profoundest emotions of his life. The 
most urgent public necessity, the most solemn of public 
duties demanded liis decision. The country and the army 
were dismayed by the plot, which Congress declared ^vould 
have been ruinous to the cause, which Greene proclaimed 
in o;eneral order would have l)een a fatal stab at our 
liberties, which King George the Third said possessed 
advantages that, if successful, could not be estimated, 
and as Sir Henry Clinton wrote, would have ended 
the conflict. Washington's remark to La Fayette, " Whom 
can we trust now," echoed the sentiment of the hour. 
In that supreme moment pi'ivate considerations and per- 
sonal pity surrendered to the requirements of official 
responsibility, and General Washington, the Commander- 
in-chief, stamped out treasonable sentiment within, and de- 
terred treasonable efforts without, by signing the death 
warrant of Major John Andre. 

Andre left as a legacy a l)low at his captors, which, thirty- 



28 

seven years afterwards, Ijoi'e extraoi'diiiary fruit. In 1817 
one of them petitioned Congress for an increase of [)ension, 
and Major Tallniadge, tlien a member, assailed them with 
ijfreat vio-or and virulence. He had been a distinofuished 
officer in the Revolutionary war. It was l)y his energy and 
sagacity that Lt.-Col. Jameson was prevented delivering 
Andre to Arnold, and he was in command of the guard and 
wath Andre till his deatli. Like all the young American 
officers .about him, Tallmadge formed a \vai'm friendship foi' 
him, and admiration of his character and accomplishments. 
He asserted that his captors w^ere Cow-bo}'s, and that it ^vas 
Andre's opinion, fre(piently expressed, that they st<^pped 
him for plunder, and would have released him if he could 
have given security for his ransom. Tallmadge knew noth- 
ing of either of them prior to this event, and his Judgment 
was wholly the reiiex of Andre's expressions. Andre's 
remarks were either a deliberate stab at the reputations of 
the men towards whom the nation's gratitude was already 
rising with a volume which promised an immortality of 
fame, while he was waiting a shameful death, or in his 
dread extremity he could neither understand any higher 
motive in them to I'esist his offers, or regard with tolerance 
or patience these humble peasants whose acts had ruined 
his fortunes and delivered him to his fate. But against 
assertions and theories stand the impregnable facts of his- 
tory. They did reject bribes beyond the wildest dreams 
of any wealth they ever hoped to accumulate. They did 



29 

deliver him to the nearest American })ost, and neither asked 
or expected any reward. Van Wart liad served four years 
in the Westchester Militia, and his term of enlistment had 
but recently expired. Paulding had been twice a British 
[)risoner of war in New York, and w^as a third time 
^\•()unded in their hands at the declaration of peace, and 
tlie Yager uniform in which he had escaped })ut four days 
l)efore the capture misled Andre into the impulsive reve- 
lation of his rank. Security for the ransom they had. As 
they wei*e intelligent enough to understand the importance 
of their prisoner, they knew that while two held him as 
hostage, the third could arrange for the delivery of any 
sum he promised upon his release. 

Washington, the Continental Congress and the Legisla- 
ture of our own State are the contemporary witnesses, and 
their testimonies l)y words and deeds are part of the record 
which makes this day memorable. When the news of 
Major Tallmadge's charges was received here, sixteen of the 
most respected and reputable men of our County, names 
as familiar among us as household words, certified to Con- 
gress, " that during the revolutionary war they were well 
acquainted with Isaac Van Wart, David Williams and 
John Paulding, and that at no time during the revolution- 
ary war was any suspicion entertained by their neighbors 
or acquaintances that they or either of them held any un- 
due intercourse with the enemy. On the contrary, they 
were universally esteemed, and taken to be ardent and 



30 

faithful ill the cause of the couiiti'v." Van Wart and 
Pauldinii", in solemn affidavits, reasserted the details of the 
capture nnd the motives of their conduct. As eacli of 
them, in ripe old a<i"e and the fullness of years, was called 
to I'ender his account to the Great Judo:e, mourning 
thousands gathered about the graves to testify theii' rever- 
ence ; and the respect and gratitude of their countiymen 
reared monuments to their memories. 

The [)opulati()n, prosperity, wealth and luxury which sur- 
round us here have grown upon the devastated fields of a 
century ago. 

We rededicate this cenotaj^h in honor of those whose 
virtues made possible this i-esult. The peace, civilization, 
liberty and hap[)iness we enjoy at home, the power which 
commands for us i-espect abroad, lie in the strength and 
perpetuity of our Repu))lican institutions. Had they been 
lost by battle or ti-eason in the revolutionary sti-uggle, or 
sunlv in the l)lo()dy chasm of civil war, the grand national- 
ity of to-day would hav^e been dependent provinces, oi- 
warring and burdened States. Arnold and Andre, Paul- 
ding, AVilliams nnd Van Wart are characters in a drama 
whicli crystalizes an eternal principle, that these institu- 
tions rest upon the integi'ity and ])atriotism of the common 
people. We are not here to celebrate marches, sieges and 
battles. The trumj>et, the charge, the waving plume, the 
flying enemy, the hero's death, are not oui* inspiration. The 
light which made clear to these men the pi'iceless value of 



31 

country and liberty was but the crlimmering dawn, com- 
pared with the noonday glory of the full-orbed radiance 
in which we stand. 

As a hundred years has ripened tlie fame and enriched 
tlie merit of their deed, so will it be rehearsed witli 
increasing gratitude by each succeeding century. 

This modest shaft marks the memorable spot where 
they withstood temptation and saved the State, but their 
monument is the Republic — its inscription upon the hearts 
of its teeming and happy millions. 



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